Adding “Pastoral Prayer” to our Service?
Presented to the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Huntington
August 24, 2008
Rev. Paul Ratzlaff
There’s an adage about life which says, “It’s always easier to get forgiveness than permission.” This I realize is not my nature. When I started my ministry with the Unitarian Society of New Brunswick, our congregation was approached by a gay support group from Rutgers, the nearby university. They asked if they could rent a room at the Society. Instead of just granting approval, I, and congregational leaders, thought it would be a good opportunity for the congregation to dig into the issues of gay rights. This was the very beginning of the movement, shortly after the Stone Wall riots that launched the social change.
We invited a panel of UUs from other congregations that were already renting to gay groups. I remember the representative from the Morristown Unitarian Fellowship, Ruth, who said in her gravelly and assured voice, “When a gay group asked our congregation, I said ‘yes’ without asking the Board or the congregation. I was the building coordinator. I thought it was UU; no big deal.” (She definitely operated on the principle, “it’s always easier to get forgiveness than permission.”)
When things got heated at the various congregational meetings we had to process the request, I wondered “why had I ever asked for permission.” But it is my nature to get folks involved in contentious issues. (By the way, New Brunswick decided narrowly to rent. This was in the late ‘70s. Now they have a lesbian minister. And it was sweet a few years back to attend their 50th celebration and see their minister dancing with her partner on the same dance floor as some of those very folks who had opposed renting to a gay support groups years ago!)
So this Sunday, I want us to consider adding a “pastoral prayer” as a regular part of our service on Sunday. I want to explain what leads me to making this suggestion.
Each one of us brings our own perspective each Sunday. We come in our own emotional space. For example, some here are excited because they begin a new job, or face a new challenge at work. At the same time, some dread showing up at work, because they fear for their job, or they are bored, or they feel unappreciated. Some are in the top of their physical health. They’ve just accomplished a feat that they had hoped to achieve for some time – perhaps a personal best on the golf course, or for the half marathon. Yet others are dealing with a new diagnosis, or with the integration of the fact that their body will never be the same again. Others come celebrating the birth of a new child, grand-child, or a friend’s baby. Yet others come in grief, suffering the loss of their partner, a loved one, a friend. Others come brimming with pride with their children. For some it’s their child showing a quality of compassion and generosity. For others it’s the achievement of a goal. Yet others come anxious for their children – worried perhaps that their child is hurting themselves with their choices, their friends, their values. Others come delighted in the world; yet others come fearful for the world. As I say, we come in such different emotional states.
And, of course, sometimes we come with a mixture of these feelings. Some come this morning with pride for their child’s beginning college, and at the same time, a heaviness in their heart, missing their child, missing their youth – so aware of time’s quick passage and life’s fragility.
Do we acknowledge these differences? How do we bind all of these different emotions into a unified body to worship together? What is the purpose of gathering together Sunday mornings?
At least we have a section of our service, joys and concerns, as well as the powerful symbol of lit candles of joy and sorrow, followed by “Spirit of Life” and a moment or two for silent prayer, meditation and/or reflection.
I fear that this may not be enough. Therefore I’m proposing expanding “joys and concerns” by adding a “pastoral prayer” to the services I lead. I’m using the traditional label “pastoral prayer” because however you think of “prayer” the function is the same. Whether you’re a praying person or not, as a human being you need comfort when you are suffering. In that sense, prayer “functions” in a similar way, regardless of one’s personal theology.
The old joke is that UUs pray “To whom it may concern.” I’m setting aside for the moment the question “who is the prayer to?” There are crucial elements, or functions, to such a prayer that I want us to consider. These elements are gratitude, solace, forgiveness, and commitment. I will take them up in turn:
Gratitude: It’s essential to take a moment each Sunday (indeed, I would argue each day of our life!) to express our gratitude. Of course at times we are naturally thankful. But I think it’s important even in those times that we not feel especially grateful to make it a practice of intentionally reminding ourselves of what we have to be grateful for. I think it’s critical for our souls to remind ourselves of the many ways that we depend on others, and on life processes, for our very existence. I fear that when we “forget” our dependence, we run the danger of becoming arrogant in the most selfish way. On the other hand, when we remember just how dependent our lives are, our hearts respond with compassion and generosity.
For example, when I take a moment before eating to consider all the variables that had to come together in order to provide the food before me, whose energy I’m about to make my own, I feel awed and responsible. I shell an egg, and hold it before my eyes, remembering the chicken that pecked and fed at the yard, that formed the egg in her body, that laid it – as impelled to further life in this potential chick. I consider the yellow egg, nucleus of potential new life; the white food encasing it, designed to start this new being on its way. I consider that I am interrupting its life force to make its energy my own. I naturally pray, “may my living be worthy of this energy which is being sacrificed for me.” Gratitude is one of those keys to spiritual well-being. So I would begin a “pastoral prayer” in gratitude.
Even as we are grateful, our hearts fill with compassion when we attend to the suffering around us, perhaps in our own lives. This is the second element that I would include in a recurring pastoral prayer: comfort. We know that death is part of life. No living thing can avoid dying. As the Buddhists say, “it’s in the nature of the mind-body to age. There’s no escaping aging. It’s in the nature of the mind-body to get sick. There’s no escaping illness. It’s in the nature of the mind-body to die. There’s no escaping death.” All the “little” losses of life can prepare us for the ultimate loss. By little losses, I mean all the necessary losses that accompany growing up, growing older, and growing mature entail – the losses of childish innocence, the losses of youthful vigor and so forth.
By regularly remembering to pray for solace and comfort, we may remember to listen deeply, and to care with those among us who are suffering, and we may be assured that when our time comes, as it will, there will be community to stand with us in our grief.
Hence, in a “pastoral prayer” I would pray for solace and comfort for those experiencing loss. “May this time of suffering pass. May they not be alone in their grief. May they have friends and loved ones to stand with them in their tears. May the pain of loss ease into the comfort of compassion.”
In addition to gratitude and solace, I would include forgiveness in a weekly “pastoral prayer,” a third element. Just as with gratitude, I think our souls need to reflect regularly on how we are living. We need to hold up the mirror to examine how we are doing against our aspirations. We would be peaceful, loving, truthful, authentic. Are we actually living in ways that are consistent with our ideals?
Being human, each with our own histories, propensities, dispositions, we cherish those times we act consistently with who we want to be, and regret those times we do not.
Regular accounting keeps us on the path that we would strive for.
Regular accounting also keeps us humble. When we are honest about how we live, we acknowledge the ways in which we miss the mark. Vivian Pomeroy puts it elegantly in 477 in the back of our hymnal: “Forbid that we should feel superior to others when we are only more shielded; and may we encourage the secret struggle of every person.”
With acknowledging our missing-the-mark comes the need for forgiveness. We need to forgive ourselves when we do not live in the ways we want. We need to forgive others when they hurt us. A weekly or more often, practice of forgiveness keeps our spirits supple and growing.
The final component would be commitment. Each of three elements leads to commitment. Out of gratitude grows “May we be worthy.” Out of comfort grows, “May we be compassionate.” Out of forgiveness grows, “May we live in ways consistent with our highest ideals.”
Now I want to take up the question of to whom such a prayer would be addressed. We gather with such different understandings and experiences of the mystery of life and death. As a typical UU congregation we do not insist on one understanding, but embrace the diversity among us, trusting that engaging our differences will enrich, rather than threaten, our spiritual lives.
To embrace our diversity, I would sometimes address this prayer to God, other times address it to a more open source, such as “Spirit of Life and Love” or “Source of All,” and other times leave the addressing undefined, simply praying for gratitude, solace, forgiveness, and commitment. I leave it to you the listener to join in the prayer’s addressee as fits you. If you hear me say “God,” and that means little to you, then cherish the fact that there are those among us who find “God” precious, that their hearts are strengthened when they hear such a prayer. When I say nothing, those of you who relate with God, can add in your own silent voice, “Thank you, God. God strengthen me.”
Finally, I want to say a few words about my uttering a prayer of our behalf. In many religious gatherings, it is understood that the leader, be it priest, rabbi, imam, speaks on behalf of the people – giving voice to the hearts of the people before their God. But, in Unitarian Universalism, there’s a much more individualistic assumption. There’s an old joke about UUs that explains why often UUs sing so poorly; they’re reading ahead to see if they agree with the words.
I request then your assent. I would like you to endorse a recurring intention to be grateful, to extend compassion, to forgive and to ask for forgiveness, and to recommit yourself to that which is most precious in your life. I would like you to endorse my praying on behalf of us all in this way. I’m requesting your assent to enter into a shared experience, always acknowledging that what I might pray may not be exactly what you are wanting or feeling in the moment. But you enter into the spirit in order to further a common experience of joining in community.
I acknowledge that this runs against the grain of many of us. If nothing else we value the freedom that we have as UUs to “go our own way.” I acknowledge that I am asking you to give up a bit of that cherished individuality to join in a common expression, led by your chosen minister. Nevertheless, I trust that our community will be strengthened by adding a spoken “pastoral prayer.”
Finally, what would a “pastoral prayer” sound like?
“Today we have so much to be grateful for – for those who love us; for the gifts of sun, and clouds, rain and earth; for air to breath, water to drink and fruits of the earth to eat; for peace in our land.
Even as we are grateful, we are mindful of those who suffer – suffer the illness physical or mental of those they love; suffer economic uncertainty; suffer from war and pollution. We pray that they will find comfort; that they will not be alone in their grief, but will have the blessing of loved ones to grieve with them.
We know that we have missed the mark in how we live. We pray that those we have injured will forgive us, even as we forgive those who have injured us.
We pray for the wisdom to know how to act, the will to act in ways consistent with our ideals, and the grace to acknowledge when we must turn again to the way we would be. In the names of all we hold “holy” we pray. So may it be. Amen”
I trust that each week, a creative spirit would move through me, so that the words might be different, but the components would be the same. As I have said, I believe that the recurrence of these intents will help our souls collectively deepen and mature. What do you think?
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